


The Bet

by mywinghead



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: M/M, and it wouldnt let go until i wrote this, i got bitten by the most aggressive plot bunny the other day, im calling it a parkner week entry even tho its not a prompt fill, so u know that one episode of b99?, today on: lauren overuses italics to convey tone, yeah its That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25764439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywinghead/pseuds/mywinghead
Summary: Based on S01E13 of Brooklyn Nine-Nine: The Bet.After Peter loses a year-long bet on who causes more explosions when they're experimenting, he has to let Harley take him on the worst date ever. But when they end up having to stake out a bank robbery instead, they might end up re-evaluating their relationship.
Relationships: Harley Keener & Peter Parker, Harley Keener/Peter Parker
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69





	The Bet

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so 80% of this dialogue is lifted verbatim from that b99 episode....... oops? i did have to adapt some of it to fit the situation and write the in-between parts so im calling this a success.

“Shit! Shit, shit, fuck, fuck _shit!”_ Peter hissed. The sound of his hushed curses were music to Harley’s ears as he tinkered with his robotics project, a smug grin stretching across his features.  
  
“Uh oh, Parker,” he smirked, “That sounds like-” And sure enough, he was cut off by a quiet _boom_ coming from whatever Peter was covering up on his workstation. Peter groaned, throwing his head back and dragging a hand down his face. “Do you wanna do the honours, or can I?” he grinned, striding across the room to where _Lab Explosions_ was written on a whiteboard, and added a final line to Peter’s side, tipping his total one point higher than Harley’s. “oh, and would you look at that?” He pointed to the glowing clock FRIDAY was displaying on the board. “Five.... four… three… two… one... It’s midnight! I win, you lose, Parker!” He flipped the board to reveal the words _Harley wins!_ scrawled triumphantly in blue marker on the other side. He crossed the room to take Peter’s hand “Peter Benjamin Parker, will you make me the happiest man alive and go on the worst date ever with me? You have to say yes.”

Peter pulled his hand from Harley’s, folding his arms and glowering up at Harley. “Yes...” he muttered begrudgingly.  
  
“He said yes!” Harley cried victoriously to the empty room. Peter scowled, trudging off to his room to call Shuri and complain.

\-----

“So, remind me how you got yourself into this bet in the first place?” Shuri questioned with a teasing smirk.

“Ugh, I’ve told this story _a million times,_ ” he whined.  
  
“Well tell it again, white boy!” she demanded.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Tony said he was sick of me and Harley blowing shit up in the lab all the time, and obviously, I blow stuff up _way_ less than he does, because I’m a _professional,_ so I said that Harley causes more problems than I do, ‘cause he _does,_ and he basically said ‘fuckin’ bet’ and _I_ said okay, and then before I knew what was happening, MJ and Abbie were there talking about _stakes!”_ he exclaimed, gasping indignantly at her laughter.  
  
“And? Carry on with the story!” Peter sighed, but found himself laughing as he continued telling Shuri what had gotten him into this situation this time a year ago.

\-----

_One year ago..._

“What are the stakes? And don’t say money because Tony pays _both_ of our tuitions.” Peter asked, grinning.  
  
“I’ll bet whatever, Princess, ‘cause there’s no way I’m losing.” Harley declared confidently.  
  
“How about your bike?” MJ suggested, not looking up from her phone and speaking in a disinterested voice.  
  
“Harls. You _cannot_ bet that bike! You wouldn’t shut up about that thing for like half your life, there’s no _way_ you’ll be able to live without it! Plus, literally _everyone_ you’ve ever picked up thinks you’re ten times hotter because of it.” exclaimed Abbie desperately, swatting her brother’s arm.  
  
“Well, I’m gonna win, so _sure!_ I’ll bet my bike.”  
  
“Harley. Harley, that bike is your fucking superpower. And most of our friends _have_ superpowers. Losing it is gonna be the worst thing in the world for you, you realise that, right?” continued Abbie, desperation evident in her face.  
  
“Well, what’s the worst thing in the world for you, Parker?” asked MJ, finally looking up to address the question to Peter.

“Being one of those boys who fall over themselves for Harley’s motorcycle.” he answered, smiling mockingly at Harley. MJ clapped her hands together.  
  
“Alright, then it’s settled! If Peter wins, he gets Harley’s bike. If Harley wins, he gets to take Peter on a date on said bike.”  
  
“Game on.” said Harley, putting his hand out to Peter.  
  
“Game on.” Peter repeated, shaking his hand, determination etched on his face.

\-----

That Saturday, Peter leaned against his wall, sighing heavily as he heard Harley knock loudly on his bedroom door.

“Parker! Date time!” he called through the door, “Time to date!” Peter cracked open the door a fraction and leaned out.  
  
“Keener, this outfit is _ridiculous_ ,” he complained.

Harley snorted “Chop chop!” He clapped his hands, “There’s plenty of embarrassing to do and only a few hours to do it in!” Peter groaned dramatically and stepped out of his room, rolling his eyes as Harley’s face lit up at his ridiculous get-up.

“Happy?” he deadpanned, gesturing to his clothes.  
  
“Oh, yeah. You look like every teenage boy little Harley had a crush on! C’mon, do a spin!” Peter obliged begrudgingly, as Harley admired his awful outfit. “Shall we?” he asked, as Peter reluctantly took Harley’s proffered arm and followed him to the garage.

“Do I really have to get on your death machine? And wear this all night?” Peter asked despairingly.

“Yep! You know the rules. The date starts now and ends at midnight. I decide what you wear, where we go, how we get there and what we eat. Oh, and there is one more rule,” He leaned against his motorcycle with a cocky smirk, “No matter what happens,” He ran one hand through his hair and looked Peter up and down, “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.” Peter pulled a face and then smiled sarcastically.

“Won’t be a problem,” He turned away from Harley to pick up a helmet and slipped it over his head. He waited for Harley to mount his bike before climbing on behind him.

“Hold tight, Princess,” Harley grinned, before speeding out of the garage and onto the streets of New York.

\-----

“Jesus _fuck,”_ Peter muttered as he climbed off Harley’s motorcycle.

Harley shot him a teasing wink. “Fun, right?” 

“Do I _look_ like I had fun?” Peter demanded, gesturing angrily to his windswept hair and clothes.  
  
“God, I never get tired of that,” Harley continued, as if Peter hadn’t spoken. (Privately, Peter had actually really enjoyed the ride, but he was adamant that Harley would learn that over his dead body.) Peter looked up at where Harley had brought them for the first time, and groaned loudly in despair.

“No. No, absolutely not. Harley Tyler Keener, get back on this motorcycle and drive me somewhere else.” he ordered.  
  
“Nope,” Harley replied evenly, “It’s the rules. C’mon, it won’t be so bad!”

“ _Oh yes, it will!”_ Peter screeched indignantly, “A _country bar?”_ he demanded.

“Yup! Aw, c’mon, darlin’, you agreed to this date, ‘cause you had to, and now we’re here!” Peter shot Harley a death glare and pushed past him into the bar, still scowling. Harley picked up a stray cowboy hat and placed it on Peter’s head with a quiet laugh. He whipped around angrily, pointing a finger accusingly in his face. “Aw, you look so cute, all pouty, in your cowboy get-up,” He pulled out his phone, “Say cheese!” Before Peter could register what had happened, Harley had snapped a photo of him wearing a fucking _cowboy hat_ . He was _never_ going to live this down with MJ, Ned, or Shuri. Let alone Tony! “Alright, listen up, everybody!” Harley called out.  
  
“Wait, no, Harley, what the fuck are you doing?” Peter tried to protest, but it was too late, Harley had grabbed the attention of every patron in the bar.

“I think we should all admire and comment on every terrible aspect of _this!”_ He pointed to Peter, who sighed and gave up any shred of dignity he had left. Holding his arms out, he shrugged and tipped his hat to MJ, to scattered cheers and applause from the rest of the bar. Wait- MJ was here?! _Fuck,_ this kept getting worse and worse. He already knew he was _never_ going to hear the end of this.  
  
“Permission to go to the bathroom?” He smiled sweetly at Harley, who nodded back.

“Granted. First of three, use them wisely.” As Peter left for the bathroom, MJ called him over to the bar. He sat next to her with a smile. “Thanks for coming out here, I really think you being here is the mortifying cherry on top of this ice-cream sundae of embarrassment I’ve created for Peter here. Sorry I can’t stay too long, I have an even terrible-er night planned for him. First up, is the mall photo studio, where we will take our official date portrait. The picture will be the two of us… playing one saxophone. Then, some peel-and-eat shrimp for dinner, at a _dangerously_ cheap seafood restaurant. And then, I contracted Abbie’s youth choir to serenade us. They’ll sing to him at midnight in the middle of Times Square. He and five hundred German tourists will savour that memory for all time.

“Dude,” she looked at him blankly, “Not that this isn’t inherently problematic in itself, but do you know why little boys pull little girls’ pigtails on playgrounds?”  
  
“‘Cause they’re so easy to grab,” he returned flippantly, “They’re just begging to be pulled,”

“Because they _like_ the girls, and that’s the only way they know how to get their attention! Which, you know, says a lot about how early toxic masculinity is instilled in boys in our society, but I digress.” MJ continued, as if it was obvious.  
  
“What are you saying?” asked Harley, still not understanding the point of the conversation.  
  
“All of this teasing, this elaborate date. Somewhere down deep, you like Peter. Like, _like him,_ like him.” She cocked her head, observing him in that unsettling way she tended to, like you were an interesting puzzle she intended to solve.  
  
“Okay, that’s straight-up insanity,” Harley scoffed, folding his arms defensively.  
  
“How much money did you spend on tonight?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“Fourteen hundred dollars,” he muttered quickly, “But! All of it is on Tony’s card, so he won’t even miss it. I do not like Peter!”  
  
She snorts, “Is that your way of eating the rich?” Before he could answer, she continued. “You’re putting a _lot_ of effort into a joke. Why don’t you just sit down and have a real conversation with him?”  
  
“Okay, MJ, you’ve been flirting with Shuri on Twitter for the last _year,_ and then every time she comes to visit, you completely avoid her. I’m not taking advice from you,” he huffed, getting up from the barstool.  
  
“At least I know I like her!” MJ called at his retreating back, but Harley had already found Peter and pulled him to the center of the crowd.  
  
“Alright, everyone, Peter and I would like to take to the dance-floor, so he can dance to country music in a way he has prepared for in no way, shape or form.” he laughed, pulling Peter by the elbow onto the dance-floor, ignoring his protests.  
  
“Romantic,” murmured MJ from where she had somehow materialised by his side.  
  
“No, embarrassing,” he corrected irritably, turning to Peter and gesturing for the music to be turned up. He grabbed his hands and started twirling him around, spinning vaguely in time with the music. “Lean back!” he told Peter, as he did the same and spun them around and around.  
  
“I hate your guts!” Peter complained, as he allowed Harley to lead him across the floor.

“Channel that passion into the dance!” he replied, his glee at Peter’s misery spreading across his face. At that moment, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to answer, inviting Ned to tag in with Peter. “Keep spinning!” 

“Kid,” came Tony’s voice through the phone. “I need you to take an assignment for me. A new gang of villains just popped up on the corner by that sandwich place Peter likes. Nothing Avengers-level, but more than local law enforcement are equipped for. Just need you to wait nearby for them to leave the bank, and then stop them before they get away.” Tony told him.  
  
“Tony, I’m right in the middle of this date, and I _cannot_ reschedule. I have far, _far_ too many non-refundable deposits. I’m renting a tiger cub by the hour.” he laughed.  
  
“For _what?”_ Tony replied incredulously.  
  
“Don’t even know,” he answered, “Waiting for inspiration,”  
  
“Well, this isn’t a negotiation, so… go,” Tony ordered, and Harley could practically _hear_ him roll his eyes over the phone.  
  
“Alright, fine, but I’m taking Peter with me. As soon as we’re done, it’s back to the date,” He hung up and turned back to Peter.  
  
“Princess? Brief pause, duty calls.” he offered his arm to Peter, who took it gratefully, clutching his head from dizziness.  
  
“Oh, thank god,” he muttered fervently.

\-----

They sat in an alley across the street from the bank, quietly observing the bank, waiting for anyone to make an appearance. “Gotta say, I am _so_ glad to be out of that costume. It was weirdly _hot_ ,” Peter complained, wriggling uncomfortably.  
  
“Oh, yeah, that’s probably because it was a cotton and plastic blend,” Harley laughed. “But, not to worry, we’re gonna catch these guys and get back to the worst date of your life.”  
  
Peter hummed noncommittally. “No… _nothing_ can be worse than the date I had with May’s _dentist,”_ He shuddered. “She offered me some of her food, and then when she put the spoon in my mouth, she tried to hold my mouth open with her fork and use the spoon as one of those dentist’s mirror thingies!” he exclaimed. Harley gasped, choking back loud laughter so he wouldn’t give away their position. “And _then,_ she went ‘Oh, yeah… dessert is out of the question.” Harley snorted. “What was your worst date ever?” Peter asked.

“Oh, man,” Harley sighed, mentally sifting through every bad date he’d ever been on, “I think it’s, like, a fifty-way tie. The last guy I went out with burst into tears when I told him I was a Leo…”  
  
“Wow…” Peter replied, “Hey, I know this building. I bet there’s a better vantage point from the roof.”  
  
“Mm-hmm,” Harley agreed, “And i bet it doesn’t smell as bad up there. God, this whole city _stinks,_ you know that?”  
  
“Okay, that’s hurtful.” Peter replied, “Shall we?” He grabbed onto Harley and started scaling the building as quietly as he could.

At the top of the building, Harley looked out at the city from where he stood.  
  
“Man, I don’t know how you do it. It is super scary up here,” he remarked. “Hey, can you grab my binoculars? They’re in my mission bag.” Peter opened his bag to look for them, scrunching up his eyebrows when he found more bags of shelled pistachios than he’d ever seen in his life.  
  


“Your ‘mission bag’ is 98% nuts,” he said, bemused.  
  
“I get snacky,” He shrugged, “Besides, nuts are super healthy, they’re like 0% fat,” he replied, completely serious.  
  
“Harley, that’s not true at all,” Peter told him, sitting down next to him, “It’s actually the opposite.”  
  
“What?” He looked scandalised, “That nut vendor _lied to me!_ And I asked Tony about it, and _he_ lied to me, too!”  
  
Peter laughed, “Why do you love that bike so much, anyways? You have a _car,_ a _really nice_ car,”

“You really wanna know?” Peter nodded tentatively, “Well, back home, I couldn’t exactly drive that car around. For one thing, I wasn’t old enough to drive, and a fifteen-year-old on a motorcycle is a lot less noticeable than a fifteen-year-old in a bright red classic car. Second… I just… I don’t know, I customised the bike myself, paid for it, painted it, taught myself how to ride it. It just… feels more… _mine,_ you know?” he explained quietly.  
  
“Huh… that’s… really cool, actually. Who knew you were a real human under all that completely unwarranted confidence?” Harley opened his mouth to retaliate, but before he could, Peter interrupted. “Nut?”  
  
“Only if you throw it,” Harley smiled.  
  
“Ready?” He nodded. Peter picked a pistachio out of a bag, tossing it in the air. Harley caught it easily in his mouth. “Nice,” he grinned, “You ready?” Peter nodded and Harley threw a nut gently, laughing as it bounced off Peter’s face, his smile growing as he joined in with his laughter.  
  
“What are you doing? Trying to catch it in your nose?” he teased.  
  
“I got it, I got it, I got it,” Peter defended, but there was no bite behind his words. Harley pulled out his phone as it rang in his pocket, noticing that Tony was calling him.  
  
“It’s Tony. Keep practicing!” He got up to answer the phone.  
  
“Okay,” Peter replied, tossing another pistachio in the air.  
  
“Hey, what is it?” he asked Tony.  
  
“Oh, good news! Law enforcement say they can send a couple units up there, relieve you from duty,” Tony told him. Harley looked down at the time.

“Ooh! We can still make Times Square,” he noted, turning to look at Peter. A soft smile settled on his face as he watched Peter hopelessly attempt catching the pistachios in his mouth, the New York City skyline stretching out behind him. “Um… You know what, Tony, hold off on that,” he replied, “We’re already here. Plus, I’m interested to see what happens.”  
  
“Alright… it’s your call,” Tony answered, sounding slightly confused. Harley agreed, before hanging up the phone to return to Peter.  
  
“What did Mr Stark want?”  
  
“Just… checkin’ in,” he lied smoothly, “How you doing? Any progress?”

“Yep!” Peter said excitedly, “Watch,” He took a handful of nuts from the bag and tossed them in the air, catching a couple in his mouth as they fell. “The key is volume!” he informed Harley through a mouthful of pistachios.  
  
“I see that,” replied Harley, watching Peter with amusement.

\-----

A little while later, they were _still_ waiting for the bad guys to leave the bank. “So, be honest,” Harley began, “If you’d won the bet, what were you gonna do to my bike? Were you gonna destroy it?” he asked.  
  
“No,” Peter answered with a shrug. “I was gonna ride it.” Harley tilted his head quizzically. “I was gonna teach myself,” he continued with a smirk.  
  
“You wouldn’t.” Harley gasped, concern for his poor bike etched into his features.  
  
“I _would,_ ” Peter laughed, “I would’ve been like,” He mimed himself hitting a wall and mimicked the sound of Harley’s beloved bike shattering. Harley’s face contorted in pain.  
  
“No, no!” he exclaimed, before noticing a flash of movement in the building they had been staring at for the last… however long. “Hey, hey!” he ducked below the edge of the roof, motioning for Peter to do the same.

“There’s our guys,” Peter said.  
  
“Alright, what’s the play?” Harley asked.  
  
“Just- follow my lead. Mask on,” Peter replied, getting them down off the roof efficiently and striding up to the bad guys. “Alright, fine, babe, I’ll ask them! Will that make you happy?” he demanded in an accusatory tone as the guys loaded up their getaway van with the cash. “Excuse me, sir,” he began.  
  
“Uh, we’re kinda busy here,” the guy answered, but Peter pressed on,  
  
“Yeah, my _boyfriend_ here thinks we’re lost,” he scoffed.  
  
“No, I _know_ we’re lost! I think he’s an _idiot!”_ Harley snapped back.  
  
“Idiot?” Peter cried incredulously, “You know why we’re out here in the middle of the night, dressed like this, _Jason?”_ he demanded, “I was gonna _propose_ to you, out on the Brooklyn Bridge, where we met on Halloween!”  
  
“Oh, yeah? Then where’s the ring?” Peter gaped at him, “That’s what I thought. And by the way, we met on the _Manhattan_ bridge! When you figure out where that ring is, you can say goodbye to everything it represents!” Peter gasped dramatically.  
  
“You son of a bitch!” Peter yelled, noting that the rest of the group had gathered to watch their theatrics.  
  
“Hey, hey, stop yelling!” demanded Guy #1.  
  
“Hey, no-one talks to Jason like that!” He caught Harley’s eye and nodded almost imperceptibly. “And you know what else? You shouldn’t rob banks, it’s bad,” he informed them as he webbed two of the guys up and Harley blasted the weapon out of the hands of a third. “Nice work,” he told Harley appreciatively.  
  
“You too,” he replied.

“I’m sad y’all caught me, but I gotta say, I’m glad you’re back together,” Guy #1 smiled at them. They looked at each other with equal confusion evident in their body language, and then Peter shrugged and they started dragging the guys off to the nearest police station.

“Yeah, definitely not the worst date I’ve ever been on,” Peter told Harley cheerfully as they made their way home.

**Author's Note:**

> i cant say im that happy w this ending but u know what? thats on me for not being creative enough to end it properly without input from a cop show :///
> 
> come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/spideyskeener) or [tumblr](https://tumblr.com/wlwparkner)!!


End file.
